Growing up we were told we could be anything we so desired. although in reality we can only be what society deems fit we cannot be different , with difference comes pain and dejection. The very fear of not fitting in is enough to chill a teenager to the bone. I set here in a mask, a facade put on to gain the approval of others. To avoid the reappearance of the wounds inflicted on me by my peers in other schools. No not wounds of the flesh ,ah no but wounds of the soul. Inflicted by a weapon so cold it leaves the ache in your body until old age begins to replace it. Here i am a conformist my music is as theirs . i save and i save to dress as they do i spend hours getting ready trying to be as they are. But still the me that is covered so well with this trickery is not good enough. Still society demands more like a vice it grips tighter and tighter on your very soul demanding you to change it grips so tight   its like you're drowning in pool of self loathing . Behind the facade ive spent so long building is a weak hurt young girl who is so afraid of being rejected that shes lost herself and the ability to tell which part of her is fake and which is not. Many towns ive lived in many places ive called home and all the while it feels like nothings every changed . Everyone is trying so hard to conform no one realize its the flaws that make them beautiful. When i could be the me ive locked away i would listen to my music load and dance around to it.  I would wear my hair any way that i saw fit. Id dress in clothes that felt not caring what others thought. Never once before i realized in order to be happy i would have to hide did i set in front of the mirror and cry because my flaws i could not hide.